Sherlock and Moriarty meet
by fabouluz122
Summary: Will Moriarty end Sherlock for good? Or add more suffering to his already lonely life...


Sherlock pulled the plunger, and watched his bright red blood mix with the hot heroin he had just cooked. The feelings of anxiety, pain and guilt washed out of his system with one push.

'Feels good, doesn't it?'

A figure appeared in front of Sherlock, and in a small moment he managed to steady his eyes and focus.

'Mor-Mori-arty.' He stuttered.

Moriarty, Sherlock's nemesis, he was tall and thin with pencil thin legs dressed in a black suit. He crouched down and met Sherlock face to face. Their pallor strikingly different, Sherlock grew greyer.

'You are not looking well my friend.'

Moriarty lifted Sherlock's wrist, and felt his pulse. It was slowing down dramatically, Moriarty sighed in feigned disappointment.

'Falling off the wagon Holmes, I wonder what dear old daddy would think…not much I suppose.'

Sherlock nodded feebly, not knowing who he was or where he was.

Standing up, Moriarty walked towards the window after being distracted by a car door banging shut. He could see Watson locking her car and looking for her keys. He turned back to face Holmes who was falling in and out of consciousness and starting to tremble.

'You don't deserve to be in this life Sherlock. I want to hurt you, more so than sending you into an overdose. Pride goeth before the fall, my friend.' He lifted Sherlock's chin and winked at him sharply before he looked out of the window and saw Watson entering the Brownstone. He then jumped out of the window, and landed like a cat before walking calmly towards and awaiting limousine with black tinted windows.

Watson looked at the room. It was turned over. She noticed there was a scuffle, with sporadic droplets of blood leading up the stairs.

'Sherlock!' She ran up the stairs and saw a slumped Sherlock against the wall.

'Oh my god.' She slid to his side and checked his pulse before reaching for her phone.

'Ambulance, my friend has overdosed.' She reported in.

After putting Sherlock in the recovery position, she checked his heart was still beating, which it was but she noted it was slowing down dramatically.

'Don't die. I know you wouldn't do this to yourself.' Watson held Sherlock down on his side as he began to go into a fit.

'AMBULANCE!' Watson left Sherlock and allowed the EMT to come inside, they ran up the stairs and immediately checked out Sherlock as Watson forced herself to step to the side.

'Are you riding with us?' One EMT asked.

Watson deliberated to herself. 'No. I need to contact his family.' Watching the ambulance leave with the sirens blaring, Watson surveyed the two floors. She couldn't find any needles, or paraphernalia. Knowing Sherlock wouldn't have cared enough to throw the materials out after injecting: she knew it was by the hand of someone Sherlock knew since there was no breaking and entering.

Captain Gregson made his way to the hospital after receiving a call from a friend in the hospital; he walked down the hall with his steady feet and found Sherlock's room. He was plugged to a ventilation machine. Sherlock was unconscious.

'Jesus.'

Gregson's phone rang. It was Watson.

'Why aren't you at the hospital, Sherlock's in bad shape.'

'I know. I think someone injected him by force. Can you see any bruising or redness anywhere.'

Gregson carefully looked at Sherlock's feet, legs, and then his arms. There was a dark impression on his forearm hidden behind a small bandage.

'Yeah.' He peeled it gently and saw profound bruising and redness around a dark pin-prick.

'It's like a bad bruise.' He added.

'I want the Brownstone to be a crime scene. I haven't touched anything, and I can't find any drugs or a needle.'

'Stay put, I'm sending a squad car and Detective Bell to investigate.'

'Thank you.'

Gregson put the phone away and looked down at Sherlock who was starting to get a pink hue in his skin once again.

'We'll find this guy, alright?' Gregson opened the door and asked a nurse to come in.

'I'm Captain Gregson from the NYPD, I want this room monitored 24 hours. We're looking at an attempted-murder of Sherlock Holmes.'

The nurse nodded and ran to the nurse's station as Captain Gregson left in a hurry.


End file.
